Favorite Fix
by my crooked heart
Summary: Oneshot, set after New York. Rachel finally found her happy ending with Finn, so why can't she stop thinking about Jesse St. James? T to be safe, St. Berry, mentioned Finchel. Please R&R!


**This was originally intended to be part of my Little Moments series, but I was listening to Favorite Fix by Artist Vs Poet and I was like huh. If Rachel actually was still in love with Jesse after New York, this could kind of describe their situation. So this takes place after New York, probably during the first week of summer vacation. So in this story Rachel and Finn are together but she's in love with Jesse. Enjoy, please R&R!**

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><p><strong>Favorite Fix<strong>

_Summary: __Rachel wants to forget Jesse, but he's under her skin__. Glee belongs to Ryan Murphy and Fox, Favorite Fix and the lyrics belong to Artist Vs Poet._

_**I'm losin' my edge,  
>Reflection's turned to white- like a ghost that's in the mirror,<br>It keeps haunting me tonight.  
>And as I lose my self-control, (lose my self control)<br>(I become a disaster)  
>Into the unknown<br>(I move a little faster)**_

Rachel paced the floor of her bedroom with tight lips. It was the middle of the night and she was wide awake. She had managed to fall asleep for an hour at around midnight, but her dreams had made her jolt awake, panting and flushed, her bangs sticking to her forehead with sweat. They weren't nightmares, and that's what scared Rachel the most. She closed her eyes and leaned against her bed frame, catching a glimpse of herself in her mirror. She was a mess – face pale, eyes huge and bugging out of her head, hair sticking out in every direction. Her heart was thudding wildly and every cell in her body was begging for her to pick up the phone and just _call_ him, already, but there were so many things holding her back.

_**You know that in the end,  
>(You're my favorite)<br>I'll relapse again.  
>(You're my favorite)<br>I'm down to my own tricks,  
>You're my favorite fix. (fix, fix, fix...)<strong>_

_Think of Finn,_ Rachel reminded herself, but her fingers were already twitching. She looked at the phone on her bedside table and nibbled on her lip. Four numbers that she called at times like this. Finn, Kurt, Mercedes… and him. There was no use trying Kurt – he and Blaine had been to the movies tonight and since Westerville was over an hour away, Burt had reluctantly agreed to let Blaine stay the night. Mercedes had been cryptic about her plans for the evening, so Rachel didn't want to call her either. That left two numbers. She hesitated and then grabbed the receiver, punching in the numbers before she could stop herself.

_**When I come down, I can't replace the feeling  
>Of falling to my knees and I'm sweatin' 'cause I'm fiendin'- I need it.<br>As I lost my self-control (lost my self-control)  
>(It's self-defeating)<br>It's left me all alone  
>(And now I know reason)<strong>_

"Hello?"

The voice on the other end was groggy, tired-sounding, but Rachel didn't care.

"I need to see you," she said breathlessly, twisting her fingers around the phone cord. "Please. I know it's late, but… can we meet?"

An hour later she was standing in her front yard, a fluffy robe wrapped around her nightgown, a pair of pig's head slippers on her feet. She scanned the street for the familiar car, spotting it rounding the corner. Her heart thudded in her chest as it purred to a stop and the door opened. A long, jean-clad leg stepped onto the ground, followed by the rest of Jesse St. James's long, lithe body. He stood at the side of the car for a moment, watching her, scrutinizing her, wondering if he could forgive her for what had happened in New York.

_**You know that in the end,  
>(you're my favorite)<br>I'll relapse again.  
>(you're my favorite)<br>I'm down to my own tricks,  
>You're my favorite fix. (fix, fix, fix, fix...)<strong>_

New York, where Finn had kissed her onstage at Nationals. New York, where she had rejected Jesse, once and for all. Rachel was beginning to think that she wouldn't be able to leave the ghosts of her past behind when she left high school – if she went to New York, would they follow her there still?

She met Jesse's eyes, her expression pleading, begging for forgiveness.

"I can't stop thinking about you," she whispered. "I – I don't know what it is. I don't pretend to understand what you do to me, but you're under my skin, Jesse St. James, and I can't stop thinking about you. I love Finn – or at least I think I do – but with you… with you, it's something else. I can't help but feel like you're my destiny, and if you are then I don't see how there's anything I can do about it."

_**I come to grips that I have fallen in so deep.  
>There's no resisting to what pulls me out of reach.<br>I am a victim, a product of an addiction.  
>Locked in this system and there's no escape.<strong>_

"You rejected me, Rachel," he reminded her. "You chose Frankenteen over me. What could possibly have changed your mind?"

She looked down at the ground, blushing. "Finn doesn't make me feel the way you do," she told him softly. "I wish that he did, but he doesn't. I don't want to feel this way about you. I finally have my happy ending and I'm willing to jump all over that for just one night with you. That's sick, and yet that's the way it is."

He stared at her for a long moment, and then he was in her garden, closing the gate with a soft click so that her dads wouldn't wake. Their bodies were close now, so close that Rachel could feel his chest heaving with each breath. She looked up at him, hardly daring to breathe. She felt herself being sucked into Jesse's eyes, his beautiful, blue eyes. He reached up to frame her face with long-fingered hands, brushing her cheekbones with his thumbs. When he finally connected their mouths, she gasped.

It was so much better than she remembered.

Jesse's lips were soft, his hands softer as they threaded their way through her hair. He nipped gently at her bottom lip and then suddenly his hands weren't in her hair anymore, they were sliding down her arm, her back, the violin curve of her hips to settle on her waist. She uttered a low squeak as Jesse hoisted her onto the garden wall, never breaking the kiss. She was glad. If he stopped now, she might regain her senses, and that would never do.

"You're beautiful," Jesse murmured, planting kisses along her neck. She wanted to laugh at that. Beautiful? Her? Not when placed against the likes of Quinn Fabray and Santana Lopez. Not when she was wearing a ratty old robe and a pair of pig slippers.

Still, hearing Jesse say that made her shiver. She dragged his mouth back to hers.

_**You know that in the end,  
>(You're my favorite)<br>I'll relapse again.  
>(You're my favorite)<br>I'm down to my own tricks,  
>You're my favorite fix.<br>You know that in the end,  
>(You're my favorite)<br>I'll relapse again.  
>(You're my favorite)<br>I'm down to my own tricks...  
>I'm down to my own tricks,<br>You're my favorite fix.**_

She would regret this come morning. She knew it, deep in the pit of her stomach, where guilt coiled like a snake ready to strike. She could hold it off till morning – she needed to enjoy this one night with Jesse, because every word she had spoken to him was the truth. Jesse St. James was under her skin, and in her bones, and most importantly, in her heart. Finn or no Finn, wherever she went, she would carry Jesse with her. Even though she knew he was bad for her, bad for the team. Jesse was a part of her.

And he always would be.

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><p><strong>I'm actually quite proud of this, but what I'd <em>REALLY<em> like is to hear from you guys. That was a not so subtle hint for you to review. Pretty pretty please? It'll only take a second! :-) (P.S. Sorry to Finchel shippers. I accept that they're most likely endgame, but I always thought St. Berry was such a great ship).**


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